Forget Me Not
by teaandtoves
Summary: Based off of tumblr's Mybelovedchershire's gifsets.  Sherlock/Lestrade, Sherlock/John, Lestrade/Dimmock
1. Chapter 1

**16 Months since the Breakup**

**3 Months after John**

Greg woke with a body tucked against him, his arms wrapped around it. The man didn't stir, snoring softly. It was one of those rare days, that both he and Will both had the day off. Greg pulled the covers up over them both more and snuggled closer. Will had woken with all the wiggling, but hadn't moved, happy to be where he was. Greg was just about comfortable enough to fall asleep when his phone buzzed. He ignored it. The Yard would have called him if they needed him to come in.

The phone buzzed again, insistent, and Greg almost groaned. It had to be Sherlock. Greg sighed and kissed Will's shoulder gently as he rolled over to grab it. Will groaned softly, turning over and cracking open an eye to look at him. "Who is it? It's not Sherlock, is it?"

Greg looked down at the texts, both of them from Sherlock. He ran his hands through his hair. "Yes, it is."

"You're not going to go after that pompous arse, are you?"

Greg leaned in, kissing Will softly. "I'm sorry, but he could be in trouble."

"He has Dr. Watson to look after him. He shouldn't rely on you so much anymore."

Lestrade stiffened a bit and crawled out of bed, gathering up some clothes. "Well, he may need a police officer, not a doctor."

Will sighed and flopped back down onto the bed. "Just be sure that you take your badge, or we'll have the same incident over at the Yard as we did a few weeks ago. It's much more confusing when they call _you_ D.I. Dimmock and they call _me_ D.I. Lestrade."

Greg chuckled. "I'll be sure."

"Come back soon. We haven't had a real day off together in three weeks."

"I will, don't worry. Just popping in to check on Sherlock, and then leaving."

Will sighed again, "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>Sherlock chuckled and put his phone down on the nightstand as he crawled out of bed, stretching. Lestrade would be there in about 43 minutes, if you adjust for the traffic. John was still out, even though it was about eight in the morning.<p>

Sherlock got dressed and sat down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Lestrade would be so _angry_ to find out that Sherlock had called him there for no reason. That was half the fun, if not predictable. It also pulled Lestrade away from Dimmock for just that bit longer, and also drove just a bit of a wedge between them. How could it not? Dimmock would be jealous; Lestrade was at the beck and call of Sherlock, Lestrade's ex-lover. How could he not be jealous?

Although, Dimmock had lasted this long with Lestrade. Seven months now, impressive. The others hadn't have lasted more than two months, at the most. Dimmock was dealing very well with his lover dropping everything to come to Sherlock whenever Sherlock asked. That anything Sherlock wanted from Lestrade, Lestrade would give him.

That Lestrade still loved _Sherlock_, that Lestrade would always love Sherlock.

The door to 221B flew open and Lestrade ran up the stairs, opening the door and sighing in relief to find Sherlock lounging on the couch. Sherlock almost smirked; Lestrade was relieved to find him safe.

"I'm here, Sherlock, what do you want?"

Sherlock sat up, looking Lestrade straight in the eyes. "Nothing. Just bored. Do you have any cases?"

There was a beat of silence as Lestrade stared at him. Finally, Lestrade sighed and rubbed his eyes with a hand, but it wasn't an angry gesture. Sherlock frowned. Why wasn't he angry? Lestrade should be furious. Should be yelling!

"You knew I would come, didn't you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock stared at him a bit more. Surprising. His tone wasn't angry, either. Just tired. Tired and sad. He was disappointed? Disappointed at what? Sherlock? Himself?

"Of course I did," Sherlock finally replied, standing up. Lestrade stiffened and his expression hardened. Ah, there it was, the anger. Boring after all. Boring as usual.

"Well, if you don't need anything, I'm going back. I'll see you later, Sherlock. I hope you're happy that you've made Will mad at me. Again." Lestrade turned to go.

"Yes, I am happy about that. Stay."

Lestrade hesitated, looked over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Where's John?"

Sherlock stood up straighter. "Asleep."

"In your bed?"

"Yes."

Lestrade's hands curled into fists. He was furious. Predictable. Boring. "I am not doing this, Sherlock. I am not letting ruin what I have with Will just because you're bored, or God knows why. Especially when you're not even considering being with me again. Goodbye, Sherlock. I'll call you if something comes up."

The flat was silent after the door clicked shut.

**End**

* * *

><p><strong>13 Months after Breakup<strong>

**First day of John**

Lestrade sighed angrily and shoved his phone in pocket. Where was Sherlock? He needed to know what he was up to, where he had run off to! He was infuriating sometimes! Always running off…

Lestrade ran his fingers through his hair. He supposed he should go home. Might as well walk home. It'd save the money and give him time to think.

He was about half way back to his house, and he turned into an alleyway as a shortcut. He froze, taking in the picture before him.

John was shoved up against the wall, Sherlock's hips pushing against him and keeping him in place. Their lips were glued together, and John's hands were in Sherlock's hair.

And there it was again. That crushing heartache. Lestrade took a deep breath and called out to them. "Oi! Don't you two have a flat you can make out at?"

They both turned to him, faces flushed, lips bright red from the hard kisses. John blushed all the way up to his ears. Sherlock just looked at him.

"Sorry, Detective. We just got caught up…" John apologized. John… John was a good man. But he had been_ kissing_ Sherlock. **Sherlock**!

Lestrade glared at them both, the anger and heartbreak intensifying when he saw the triumphant look in Sherlock's eyes. Of course. That bloody bastard planned it so Lestrade would find him. He had wanted to show him. 'Look at me, Lestrade! I've moved on, but here you are, still lingering over me like you'd ever get me back. Like I'd ever be interested in you again. You're pathetic, you know that?'

"Just go home before I write you up for public indecency." Lestrade finally said, the anger rushing out of him in one breath.

As soon as they were gone, Lestrade touched the spot on the wall that John had been pushed against.

He never did tell Will why his eyes had been so red and his face so blotchy.

* * *

><p>Sherlock looked up at Lestrade. His heartbreak, which he was trying so desperately to hide, was painted on his face. Sherlock almost wanted to dance. It had worked. Maybe now Lestrade would realize. Yes, Sherlock didn't want to date him, but Lestrade was <em>his<em>. Not Dimmock's. He'd never be anyone else's. He belonged to Sherlock, all of him. And even though Lestrade was an old toy, Sherlock still didn't share. Lestrade would break up with Dimmock now. Would be alone, but still Sherock's. Always Sherlock's.

Lestrade was frozen for a moment, body screaming anger at Sherlock. But he let it all out, and it was replaced by sadness.

Sherlock glanced back as he and John left, and got to see the first two tears fall.


	2. Chapter 2

**18 Months since the Breakup**

**5 Months after John**

Sherlock dropped the wet, black ball into the evidence bag, his mind racing. He had been killed. Why? Why would they kill him? Sherlock looked up when a man walked into the room. He hadn't met the man before. A sergeant. Where was Lestrade?

"Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met."

"Yeah, I know who you are. And I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."

He wasn't intimidated by Sherlock, and he obviously did not like him at all. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but handed over the bag without argument. Why was the man so quick to hate him?

"I phoned Lestrade; is he on his way?"

"He's busy; I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant. It's Detective Inspector. Dimmock."

Sherlock frowned. So that was the reason for the animosity. He was Lestrade's lover. And he was lying. Lestrade wasn't busy; it was his day off. He had probably been napping when Sherlock texted; Dimmock must have intercepted the text. He must be getting tired of Lestrade running off to Sherlock at the drop of a pin. Sherlock hid a smile. Beautiful. Only a matter of time, then, until he left Lestrade.

* * *

><p>Will closed the door to his apartment with a soft click. The telly was on in the other room, football, by the sound of it. He took off his coat and hung it up, emptying his pockets of his cell phone and badge when he got to the living room, where Greg sat.<p>

Greg smiled at him, and stood up, walking over to him and giving him a quick peck hello. "Where did you go off to?" he asked, pulling away to sit down again. Will joined him, sighing softly.

"Got called in. City suicide. However, Mr. Sherlock Holmes seems to think otherwise."

Will could feel Greg tense next to him. "Sherlock was there? Why wasn't I called in? No one else can deal with him, and everyone at the Yard knows that." Greg reached over Will to grab his phone.

Will sighed. "I told them I could handle it. And I sent him away."

Greg checked his text messages and sighed softly. "Will. He needs to have a case. He goes insane-"

"That's not your problem anymore!" Will almost shouted, "He's not your lover, you shouldn't have to be at his beck and call! Especially on your day off!"

Greg sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "He's still my friend."

"You wish he was more."

The room was silent for a moment, other than the sounds of football from the telly. The accusation hung heavy in the air. Neither of them spoke for a long while, Will watching Greg, Greg looking anywhere but at Will. Finally, Will stood up and went to the bedroom, and the door closed silently.

Greg ran his fingers through his hair and texted Sherlock: Do you do this on purpose?

* * *

><p><strong>Five days later<strong>

Sherlock swept into Lestrade's office. The detective was sitting at his desk, scanning a report of some kind. He was tired – obviously been sleeping on the sofa. So Sherlock had been getting to Dimmock. Good. Sherlock could almost hear the argument that the two must have had in his head. Of course, Sherlock had already known that Lestrade and Dimmock where fighting about him. He had heard it in Dimmock's tone: "Mr. Holmes - I've done everything you asked. Lestrade - he seems to think your advice is worth something…"

Sherlock cleared his throat, and Lestrade looked up at him. He said nothing as Lestrade visibly tensed. There was a tense silence for a moment, as Lestrade decided what he should do. Finally, he just sighed. "Sherlock."

In a two long strides, Sherlock crossed the office and stood in front of Lestrade's desk. "Greg." Lestrade's expression swiftly moved from guarded to surprise.

"So we're on my first name again?"

"You act as if we stopped. I just choose to use Lestrade. It appeased Sally a bit."

Lestrade's expression changed again: guarded and a bit annoyed. That wasn't good. Sherlock needed him relaxed if he was to pull this off. Lestrade sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We both know you don't give a bloody fuck what Donavon thinks. What do you want, Sherlock? I'm busy."

Sherlock walked around the desk and gently touched his cheek. "I just wanted to see you," he muttered. That should relax Lestrade. It always has before… And… There we are. Lestrade eased and leaned just a bit into Sherlock's touch. Sherlock leaned down, catching Lestrade's chin. There was a just a moment of pause, before Sherlock pulled him into a rough kiss.

It took Lestrade a few moments to gather enough will up to push him away. "No, Sherlock. We're just friends now."

Sherlock frowned. "That doesn't mean that you aren't _mine_."

"Damnit, Sherlock, I am _not_ your toy. Just because you broke it off because you didn't like me anymore or god knows-"

Anger flashed through Sherlock. Lestrade blamed _him_ for the break up?

"It was never me. It was you," Sherlock cut in, glaring down at Lestrade, who just glared back.

"_Me_? I put up with a lot-"

"You were boring!" Sherlock snapped at him.

Lestrade looked at him, in surprise and hurt, before turning back to his desk. "Alright. Get out of my office."

Sherlock shifted from foot to foot, full of agitated energy, and sighed.

"Greg-"

"Lestrade has worked fine for you the past year and a half. Out. I'll call you when I have a case for you."

Sherlock sighed and swept out of the office, almost running into John.

"John?"

John wouldn't look him in the eyes. "Dimmock said we can go now; we're done."

Sherlock took John's hand, ignoring the flinch. He glared at Dimmock, who walked past him, into Lestrade's office. Obviously there to pick up the pieces.

Sherlock felt another burst of irritated energy and dragged John out of the building and back towards 221b.

* * *

><p>Dimmock handed John a form to sign; a witness statement.<p>

"You know, Lestrade could probably get over your boyfriend without him popping in on him every minute or so to make him hope, and then crushing it."

John paused as he was about to sign. "What?"

Dimmock gave him a strange look. "Your boyfriend keeps making Greg think that he might come back to him. I know that Lestrade still loves him; it doesn't bother me too much. Greg also loves me, and your boyfriend is just toying with him. Although, I'd appreciate it if you got him to stop."

John frowned. Sherlock and Lestrade? Really? John couldn't imagine it. But, it explained a lot, if it was true. And Dimmock was saying that Lestrade still loved Sherlock. And was accusing Sherlock of stringing Lestrade along.

"Don't tell me you didn't know?" Dimmock's tone stated his shock, for a moment, "Lestrade adores him. It's the only reason your boyfriend's let anywhere near a crime scene. And your boyfriend just pulls him along, never minding that it's hurting him. I bet that's where Mr. Holmes is right now, doing just that."

John shook his head. "Sherlock wouldn't do that; he just doesn't understand-"

"Then let's go see? I have to go see Greg anyway." Dimmock stood up, picking up some files and leading the way to Lestrade's office. He stopped in front of it, not pushing open the door. It was already open just a crack, and John could hear Lestrade's voice.

"No, Sherlock. We're just friends now."

"That doesn't mean that you aren't _mine_."

John paled slightly. Was Sherlock trying to _cheat_ on him? With Lestrade. He felt his stomach knot.

"Damnit, Sherlock, I am _not_ your toy. Just because you broke it off because you didn't like me anymore or god knows-"

"It was never me. It's you." Sherlock was obviously irritated.

"_Me_? I put up with a lot-"

"You were boring!" Sherlock snapped. John visibly flinched. He could see Dimmock's hands clench in anger, but the detective did not burst into the room and stop it.

"Alright. Get out of my office."

"Greg-"

Sherlock was using Lestrade's _first name_.

"Lestrade has worked fine for you the past year and a half. Out."

John didn't have time to react as the door was pulled open and Sherlock almost collided with him.

"John?"

John couldn't look at him. He was sure that Sherlock could see his thoughts written on his face. Was what happened to Lestrade going to end up happening to him?

"Dimmock said we can go now; we're done."

Sherlock took his wrist. John flinched in surprise, but didn't pull his arm away. Sherlock's gloves were off. His hands were warm. It was nice. The hand slipped into his own and their fingers tangled. Sherlock didn't even seem to notice. He was too busy glaring at Dimmock as he went into Lestrade's office.

Suddenly, Sherlock pulled on his hand, rushing off. John stumbled but quickly started running after, their hands still holding tight to one another's.


	3. Chapter 3

**19 Months since the Breakup**

**6 Months after John**

Lestrade slammed open the door to 221B. "Sherlock! I need to talk to you. Now!" Lestrade took deep breaths. He could deal with Sherlock kissing him in his office, with him obviously flaunting John in front of him, with him pissing off his team, with playing with his heart, but he knew he had to draw the line somewhere, and harassing his boyfriend seemed like a good place.

Sherlock floated out of his room, still dressed in his pajamas. He looked Lestrade over quietly, his face showing nothing. "Yes?"

"What in _bloody hell_ do you think you're up to? You had absolutely no reason to text that to Will. _None_. I'm sick of you trying to get me to break up with him. It won't happen, Sherlock!"

Sherlock's expression never changed, which just made Lestrade angrier.

"I'm not going to do this anymore, Sherlock! You're being childish. I'm not yours anymore! I will never be yours again! You-" Lestrade stopped mid sentence and took a deep breath, his tone more subdued, "You have John, and I have Will. We do not, and will not, have anything between us. You're being extremely childish and immature. So just _stop_, Sherlock."

The flat was silent for a moment, Lestrade seeming to crumble just a little. Sherlock didn't move towards Lestrade, but he was frowning now.

"No. I won't. Because you need me."

Lestrade took a let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Yes, I do. But I can't do this anymore, Sherlock. You're going to break me." Lestrade let out a dark chuckle, "But maybe that's what you want. Well, Sherlock. I quit. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not letting you pull me around. I can't do it." Lestrade sighed. "Good bye, Sherlock."

Sherlock's gaze had become more intense, and Lestrade could feel that he was angry. But he made no move to stop Lestrade from leaving.

"Good bye, Lestrade."

Lestrade swept out of the flat and back into London.

* * *

><p>Sherlock smiled to himself when he heard Lestrade yell for him. He was going to tell Sherlock that he had finally gotten that idiot Will to break up with him. And, knowing Lestrade, he would then say something about how Sherlock's childish and selfish, but Lestrade will give him what he wants, then he'll do something like kiss him, or demand that they go out again.<p>

Sherlock would, of course, push him away or say no, but Lestrade would be his again. Sherlock rolled out of his bed and walked into the living room, being sure to keep his face straight. John was in the kitchen and, obviously, he could hear everything that happened. Sherlock would have to tread lightly. John was already wound tight, worried that Sherlock was going to leave him. Sherlock wouldn't leave him. Not John.

Lestrade was glaring at him, his entire body screaming anger at Sherlock.

"What in _bloody hell_ do you think you're up to? You had absolutely no reason to text that to Will. _None_. I'm sick of you trying to get me to break up with him. It won't happen, Sherlock!"

Sherlock didn't reply, knowing that Lestrade would want to continue his angry rant. Sherlock's interruption would only make it worse.

"I'm not going to do this anymore, Sherlock! You're being childish. I'm not yours anymore! I will never be yours again! You-" Lestrade stopped. He didn't like what he was about to say, but felt that it had to be said. "You have John, and I have Will." Ah, Lestrade didn't like Sherlock being with John, of course. "We do not, and will not, have anything between us. You're being extremely childish and immature. So just _stop_, Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned. Lestrade thought that just because they weren't a couple that mean that Sherlock would renounce his claim. How silly. He alone was the only one that Lestrade needed. But Lestrade- Lestrade didn't know that he needed Sherlock. Lestrade's anger broke then, replaced with sadness.

"No. I won't. Because you need me." And it was true.

"Yes, I do. But I can't do this anymore, Sherlock. You're going to break me." Lestrade let out a dark chuckle, "But maybe that's what you want. Well, Sherlock. I quit. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not letting you pull me around. I can't do it." Lestrade sighed. "Good bye, Sherlock."

Sherlock wanted to shake his head, to shout. No no no no no no _no_! Lestrade was _his_, would always be his and he couldn't just walk away from it! But he couldn't. Not without losing every chance to get Lestrade back.

"Good bye, Lestrade."

With that, Lestrade swept out of the flat.

As soon as the door closed, Sherlock picked up the nearest breakable thing and threw it against the ground with as much force as he could. The teacup shattered explosively and Sherlock glared at it.

John finally emerged from the hallway, just a bit hesitant. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock moved to sit down on the couch, holding his head in his hands. John cleaned up the broken teacup and sat next to him, petting his curls.

If John saw the tears, he didn't say anything.

* * *

><p>Greg closed the door to his apartment quietly, letting out a soft sigh. He turned around and blinked in surprise to see Will standing there, waiting for him. Greg smiled at him and went to give him a kiss when he saw the suitcase in Will's hand. The smile fell off his face.<p>

"Oh."

"Greg-"

Greg held up his hand to stop Will. He understood. He hadn't treated Will as he should have. He was still too caught up in Sherlock. But why did it have to be today? Now? Right after he had finally told Sherlock that he couldn't do this anymore?

Greg walked over to Will and kissed him softly. "Don't leave yet. I'll sleep on the sofa, and help you pack up tomorrow. But it's late, and we're both tired. Go to bed."

Will hesitated, before nodding. "Alright. Good night, Greg."

"Good night, Will. I love you."

Will just nodded, before going back to the bedroom.

Greg stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**3 Months before the Breakup**

Sherlock's arms wrapped around Greg, pulling him close. "Don't get up, it's too early; it's still dark out…" he muttered, kissing the back of Greg's neck, "It's just your sister, trying to call you back to apologize after she yelled at you last night."

"Mm. How do you know it's her and not the Yard?"

"Because she switches back in forth between six hours and seven hours before she calls back to apologize."

"If you were anyone but yourself, I would find it creepy that you know how long my sister waits to call back and apologize."

"But I'm not anyone else."

Greg rolled over and kissed Sherlock softly, ignoring the ringing phone. It finally stopped and Greg relaxed into Sherlock's arms.

"Go back to sleep. I'll make sure you get it if it's the Yard."

Greg hummed and soon fell back asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>20 Months after the Breakup<strong>

**7 Months after John**

**1 Month after Dimmock Moved Out**

Sherlock's arms wrapped around Lestrade, pulling him close. "Don't get up, it's too early; it's still dark out…" he muttered. Lestrade unwound himself from Sherlock, picking up his clothes.

"If I was a few years younger I would have listened to you."

"You should listen to me now."

"You should be back at Baker Street with John."

A pause.

"He's not there. He's at a workshop of some sort."

Lestrade tensed and turned around.

"Oh, so I'm just the mistress that you play around with when the wife's away?"

Sherlock frowned at him.

"Don't be so predictable!"

"I'm sorry I'm boring, then! Why don't you just get out and leave me alone, then!"

"Because you are _mine_!"

"Not anymore, Sherlock! I haven't been yours for almost two years!"

Sherlock got up and pushed Lestrade against the wall. "You will _always_ be mine."

Lestrade pushed him away hard, shoving him back to the bed. They glared at each other a moment, before, as always, Lestrade gave first. He looked down at his socked feet and sighed.

"What a pair we were…"

Sherlock stood back up, walking slowly over to Lestrade and tilting his head up. He kissed him softly. "The call was from the Yard. You should probably go answer it."

"Probably. Get dressed."

"If it's interesting, I'm coming along."

Lestrade chuckled, pulling on a shirt. "Sally will think we're dating again."

"Sally would be wrong, then."

Lestrade looked at Sherlock quietly for a moment. "Yes. Yes, she would." He turned and went to retrieve his phone from the living room.

* * *

><p><strong>19 Months after the Breakup<strong>

**6 Months after John**

Greg put the last box down in Will's new flat. He looked around it. It was nice; Will must have been planning on moving out for a while. Greg took a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He would wait to go home before he cried. He wouldn't cry in front of will. He had gone through enough with Greg.

"Do you need my help unpacking, or moving the sofa?" he asked, turning to face Will, who smiled sadly at him.

"No, I think this will be fine for today. I can finish up tomorrow."

Greg just nodded, quiet for a moment.

"Can I ask you something, Will?"

"Yes?"

"How long were you planning this?"

Will sighed and sat down on the couch. "Two months."

Greg just looked at him. "So that's why you weren't upset that Sherlock kissed me. You were already planning on leaving me." He sighed and raised a hand when Will went to argue. "Let's not, Will. Please. I honestly just hope that you're happy. And if you ever need anything, just give me a call."

Will watched him, nodding. "Yeah. I'll do that."

Greg left, closing the door quietly and walking back to his flat.

Two months.

Which meant that Greg had happily held Will in his arms for _two months_ while Will hadn't been happy with him.

Maybe Will hadn't ever been happy with him. Just like Sherlock hadn't been, or his ex-wife. He was starting to see a pattern. Greg unlocked the door to his now very empty flat and sat down on the sofa.

He knew he was getting old. Maybe it was time to just give up. Maybe get a dog or something.

Greg sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back into the seat. He had told Sherlock once that he was getting on in years. Too old for the consulting detective. And he had said-

"My lovely, silver fox." There was a gentle touch to the side of Greg's head, a hand playing with the locks of hair. "That was the term I believed I used."

Greg opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock. He didn't pull away from the touch, but he didn't lean into it either.

"Yes, that was it."

"It's still true. You're still my lovely silver fox." Sherlock said, leaning down to steal a kiss. Greg turned his head away.

"Don't, Sherlock. I told you. I'm done. I'm too tired and old for this anymore."

"You were thinking of just getting a cat and giving up, weren't you?"

Greg didn't even ask how he knew, just sighed and pulled away from him. "Actually, a dog." Greg closed his eyes again. "Just go, Sherlock. I don't want anything to do with you outside of cases anymore."

"John said I wasn't allowed back into the flat until I made up with you. Kicked me out after the fifth broken teacup. I came over here but you were gone." Sherlock looked around, obviously examining the emptiness of the flat. "You were helping Dimmock move out."

"Yes, thank you, Sherlock, for pointing out the obvious." Greg snapped at him, "You've gotten what you wanted. I'm now alone and miserable and you can make jokes about it with John or whoever and just _stop_." His voice cracked just a little, "I'm not as clever as you, Sherlock. I have no idea what you really want here. But if you try to take me right now without taking me back, I'm going to break. I honestly _cannot_ do this anymore. So if that's what you want, Sherlock, to break me, then by all means, go ahead."

Sherlock was silent for a moment, watching him. Greg didn't move, didn't speak. He was too tired of this. All of this. Why couldn't Sherlock just pick one of them and stick to it? But he wouldn't. He was too selfish, too greedy. He wanted everything.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed Greg, starting to undo his buttons. Greg let him do what he wanted. He was tired of it all.

* * *

><p><strong>3 Days Later<strong>

"Dimmock, I need you to take Lestrade's team out on this case."

Will looked up, frowning as he took the case files. "Where's Lestrade?"

"Someone from above said to give him the next two weeks off. Said something about him being unable to work. Maybe someone died?"

Will bit his lip. "Maybe. I'll take care of this." He held up the file. The other man left and Will sighed. Greg hadn't stopped working when _Sherlock Holmes_ had broken up with him, why stop when Will did? He shook his head. It wasn't important anymore.

But maybe he'd check up on him over the weekend.

* * *

><p>Will knocked on the door, but there was no answer. The lights were on, though, so Greg had to be home. Will hesitated for a moment before pulling out the key he had yet to return, and opening the door.<p>

He was greeted by Sherlock sitting in a chair reading the paper over. The man just glanced up at him.

"He's in the bedroom, asleep. Hasn't been doing much else."

"Other than calling you, obviously." Will couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I came to him. Didn't know that you two had broken up, actually. You can sit down. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

Will raised an eyebrow as he sat. "The great Sherlock Holmes, not knowing something?"

"Well, he _had_ just given me a speech on how he wasn't going to deal with me pulling him along if it meant he lost you. I believe his words were "I'm not doing this anymore". He hadn't known that you were going to leave him at that point, obviously."

Will stared at him. "He told you _what_?"

Sherlock looked up at him from the paper, a bit of surprise on his face. "Oh. Of course he wouldn't have told you. Not if you had broken up with you right after he got home. Wouldn't have wanted to force you to change your mind, if you were unhappy. He and John are alike in that way. Well, I came to make up with him, and there he was, sitting in his empty flat, alone." Sherlock shrugged, going back to his paper, "I'm just here to make sure he doesn't off himself. I need him for cases."

Will took a deep breath. "That's all he's good for in your mind, isn't it? Donovan was right about you. You don't care at all about him."

Sherlock looked up again, taking him in for a moment. "Nothing I say will convince you otherwise."

Greg chose that moment to stumble out of the bedroom, in only a pair of pajama pants. He blinked at them both and shook his head.

"What in bloody hell are _you two_ doing in my flat?"


End file.
